


At the Bottom of the Abyss

by bluemermaid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Headcanon, Imprisonment, Pre-Canon, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 10:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3130799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemermaid/pseuds/bluemermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could not remember his own name; he couldn't remember where he was or why he was there; he couldn't remember who he'd left behind. All he knew was a great yawning abyss, and at the bottom of it he lay curled up and trembling, and in pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Bottom of the Abyss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [etoilecourageuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/gifts).
  * Inspired by [And You'll Scream My Name Aloud](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3132242) by [FairyQueen (etoilecourageuse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/pseuds/FairyQueen). 



> For my dearest Avilove, based on an amazing fic she wrote for me. TRY TO GUESS WHICH ONE, MY DEAR.
> 
> Love you bb <3333333333

There was nothing.

It was dark and he couldn't breathe and the pain pressed in on him from all sides, the thundering silence of the never-ending night and he was alone, he was always alone.

He could not remember his own name; he couldn't remember where he was or why he was there; he couldn't remember who he'd left behind. All he knew was a great yawning abyss, and at the bottom of it he lay curled up and trembling, and in pain. 

But at the top. At the top a woman knelt with her hair hanging over her face, her long black hair of silk. She knelt on the very edge, and she cried for him, she cried great big tears of sorrow, which splashed upon him and ran deep into his skin.

He did not know her name; he had forgotten. But she was still there, somewhere, up far beyond his thoughts.

There was nothing and there was no time, life just went on and on and he suffered in silence, the inside of his mind nothing but one long giant scream, every nerve ending on his skin crying with the pain of being trapped so tightly and so alone.

And so when the boy came, he barely even realized, he could not process the presence of another human being. _Human_...what did such a word even mean? The prisoner did not know the meaning of language at all anymore; his vocabulary had been reduced to nothing. He had been inside the cage for far too long and life was nothing, he was nothing and there was nothing.

The boy sat and stared at him and the prisoner allowed him to fade almost as soon as he had arrived, another nameless face at the top of the abyss, beside the woman. The woman....

He felt more than heard it, felt the shouting of voices, felt the rage and disgust pressed up against him so closely, felt the victory, and the defeat. He felt them, felt them so near and he cried out to them, unable to speak but praying they would hear his silent call, his desperate prayer for release. _Save me._

He had to get out, he had to get home, he had to get out he had to get out hehadtogetout....

And then, suddenly, freedom. The doors opened and light spilled onto his face, fingers touched his skin and he trembled, jerked back in fear. What would they do to him now, what more could they possibly do? But they freed him.

He felt the touch of a human for the first time in years and he could do nothing but cry, nothing but lean upon them and try to remember who he was, where he had been. Did he even live still, or was this the final moment of death, had he been taken by the hands not of living beings but of macabre spirits, come to pull him down into an even greater abyss?

Objects came into sharp focus: a door, a chair, a desk, a lamp. Things he had not seen in ages and had forgotten the names for, things shrouded in fog slowly clearing away before his eyes. He was in an office of some sort.

And then the door opened again and the boy was there, the broken guard who had sat watching over him for so many endless days. The boy was there and he was weeping, rushing to his prisoner's side and he flinched, turned his head aside, frightened and confused, under attack.

But no. The boy grabbed hold of him but it was not an attack, it was an embrace, a touch of such joy and relief and he felt something break deep inside of him. He knew this. He knew this touch, this feeling, this tugging at his soul. He knew this boy.

And the world pressed in on him and it was a jolt of white hot panic because he felt he was being shoved back again into his cell only this time it was even smaller and it was tight and swirling and he was afraid, he was so afraid. _I only just escaped,_ he thought desperately, attempting to flail despite the boy holding him tight. _I only just...._

And then silence. Silence, and a broad emptiness that felt safe to him somehow, though he could barely see it. Silence and a cold floor beneath him, as he lay there on his back staring up at a blurry ceiling. His eyes fluttered. He was so tired...and so frightened still. So much colour, so much light. After the endless years of dark it was overwhelming.

And the boy. The boy lay beside him, breathing deeply, face full of worry and yet somehow also relief. He looked at her. He looked at _her_ because it was not a boy, it was a woman, it was the woman at the top of the abyss, only her hair had been shorn and she looked so tired, so weak....and yet so happy, happy and adoring as she looked down upon him.

He knew her. He lifted his head, struggling to keep his eyes open, struggling to understand, to piece together the shattered pieces of his old life, left long ago at the bottom of the abyss. He knew her, though. He stared at her, stared and let it wash over him, the slow rearranging of features, the long ago memories of another time, when he was someone else entirely and he had had another life.

"Ella...." he spoke, and only knew her as he spoke it, only recognized his beloved wife as the syllables tumbled out from his ravaged throat. He spoke her name and it was everything; it brought everything back to him. He'd been married...he was married still. She had saved him.

She kissed his brow and he wrapped his arms around her, cradled her against his body as it all came rushing back, as all the love and fear and relief spilled out from his burning eyes and chest. He held her as tightly as he could, never wanting to let go again, never wanting to lose her from the tumble into the abyss.

They were free now, and he would never forget her again, would never cease to speak her name though he may never remember his own title, would never cease to let go of her, even as they drifted off into a restless sleep, exhausted from the endless journey they had undertaken together.

They were free.


End file.
